


A Collection

by TheGodKingOfBirds



Category: Original Work
Genre: Original Character(s), Original Fiction
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-12
Updated: 2020-10-12
Packaged: 2021-03-07 21:20:10
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,308
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26960536
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheGodKingOfBirds/pseuds/TheGodKingOfBirds
Summary: A collection of short pieces for an original character.
Kudos: 1





	1. Facade

The stars had aligned for this moment, Lavael felt this to be true. The death of the old lord presented him with the last pieces to his puzzle. Clothes, money, a story—he had these readily available, the status and house had eluded him up until now. All he needed to do was sell the lie, an easy enough task if he played his cards right, and there was no doubt in his mind that he would.

The absurdity of the situation was not missed by him. Hardly anyone questioned whether or not he was really the old lord’s heir and those who did were bought off easily enough. He had more than enough resources to get away with it, that made itself quite clear to him now. Now? Now he had everything. The manor, the title, the money—these things were his, all he had to do now was play the part. He was a lord, and it was time to prove it.

Extravagance. he was nothing if not extravagant. All that he did, all that he had. He had gained his reputation through it. He quickly became the talk of high society thanks to his lavish parties and openly flaunted wealth. It was not at all difficult to integrate himself with his new peers, his wealth and generous invitations earned him a great deal of respect amongst the upper circles.

Still, he made sure to keep them all at arms length. Arrogance and vanity became the shield of which he defended himself with. His peers were prying but he was clever enough to avoid their pitfalls. His carefully woven persona never faltered. His deceptions always held. He was desirable and envied in equal measure, with such a combination he wouldn’t dare tempt misfortune by engaging further with those he surrounded himself. He didn’t trust these people, nor did he ever intend to.

He had everything. He had gotten everything that he wanted, everything that he worked so hard for. But no matter what he did, it was still there. The parts of him that he loathed seemed to create an unrelenting void that he could do nothing to fill. He didn’t understand. Why? Why wasn’t it enough?


	2. Mercenary

The man was a brute. He was rough and standoffish, always regarding the people around him with a barely hidden scowl. He was merciless in combat, he could fell twenty men in a moment without so much as a flinch. He cared for little besides the jobs he took on and the money he earned from them. This is what the people knew of him and this is what they believed. The man was a brute—and Lavael was sure of this.

Money. He could understand this at the very least, no one knew the value of wealth more than he did. So when it came to hiring the brute's services—and adding a small caveat to their agreement—price was of little concern to him.

Traveling, however, quickly became a concern. The two men were constantly at odds. Thinly veiled hostility reigned supreme in the majority of their exchanges with each another. Their differences seemed too great to overcome and the secrets that they kept to themselves only served to complicate things. They had no trust in one another, and that in itself was a danger to their task.

The man was an idiot. A reckless, self-sacrificing idiot. Without even a thought for his own safety he took the attack meant for Lavael. He couldn’t understand it. After the constant venom exchanged between the two he’d have thought the brute would be more than happy to let him perish, instead of throwing himself in harm’s way for his sake. The man was an idiot—and Lavael was sure of this.

“You’re good at this...”

“I’ve had practice.”

That’s what started it. His steady hand and precision in stitching the man’s wounds, his response to the man’s observation earned him a questioning look. Neither of them spoke. There was uncertainty where hostility had once been. For the briefest of moments, they had experienced something beyond their initial perceptions of one another. Neither of them were sure how to proceed from here, but they’d do their best to figure it out.


	3. Porcelain

_“Someone once told me that I was porcelain…”_

This memory had been on his mind for some time. It had always stuck with him, more than it should’ve perhaps but it had nonetheless. The occurrences that transpired recently had brought the memory forward once more, and he felt that now was the time to put it all to rest. “Beautiful, but fragile… and not much else.” He could recall this vividly, it had been such a jarring moment for him. At the time, this comment had struck him where he was weakest—the parts of himself that he loathed yet that he was so distinctly aware of.

This earned a dissenting hum from the man beside him. Andreas could always voice his own thoughts so clearly without a single word. It was a skill that he wished he had, but right now he'd have to settle for words.

_“I felt that if I was porcelain, my past was a person who had shattered me carelessly... I felt so broken, so lost.”_

A sad laugh escaped from his lips. Life had not been so kind to him. He used to wonder what he had done to justify it, what terrible act he had committed to have brought him so much pain. It was the unanswered question. Even now a small part of him still wondered.

_“I used to convince myself that wealth and status had erased the damage done by my past… it didn’t really, it only made it easier to distract myself from it.”_

Distractions. Trinkets, parties, lovers—He always had distractions for himself then, and yet none of them mattered. If anything, they only served to deepen the void once the novelty wore off. No longer did he need to rely on such things, no longer was there a void to fill.

Andreas frowned, giving his hand a reassuring squeeze. The stoic man didn't need to speak for him to understand. With a surge of confidence, he took a breath and continued.

_“I don’t feel that way anymore. What I went through is still there. My past will always be a part of me and I accept that—it made me who I am.”_

It felt like a revelation. The self-loathing he once felt so strongly wasn't quite there. He knew there would be days where it would resurface with a vengeance, and days where he questioned whether or not he had changed at all. He knew he could face those days, he knew he was strong enough to do so.

_“You helped me understand that. You helped me find beauty in the parts of myself I used to despise.”_

He never would have gotten to this point on his own. He hadn't even considered this as a plausible outcome and yet, here he was. He was well and truly happy—he could say that without hesitation. All he needed was a push in the right direction. Had he expected Andreas to be the one to give it? No. But he didn't expect to love the man either, and yet, here they were.

Andreas gave him a warm smile—the one only ever directed toward him—and gently cupped his cheek. He didn't think he could ever get used to this. Love. Love expressed so freely just for him. He prayed to the gods that he could return even a fraction of what this man, his lover, had provided him. He loved Andreas more than he could ever hope to express, but he could try.

_“If I am porcelain, you are the gold that rejoined my broken pieces.”_


End file.
